


What you should have known

by Leya



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Bukkake, Character Death, Community: sherlockbbc_fic, Facials, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:23:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Leya/pseuds/Leya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the following prompt: Jim/Mycroft, bukkake (non-con). Jim wanted Mycroft for a very long time, but when he finally manages to capture him he finds he can't quite bring himself to violate 'the iceman'. Still, that doesn't stop him from tying Mycroft to his bed and masturbating until he ejaculates all over him. Repeatedly. Bonus: Mycroft keeps his composure through all this even though he is absolutely horrified. Unfortunately, that gets Jim even more excited.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What you should have known

**Author's Note:**

> Unbeta'd.

"The ambassador of the Ukraine told me to cancel tomorrow’s meeting. He wants to reschedule it to next week."

"Fine." Mycroft closed his eyes and tried to remember if said ambassador was the one interested in horse-racing or the one fond of gardening. After a few seconds he remembered that it was neither the first nor the latter and winced at the prospect of spending his evening in a karaoke bar.

His PA threw him a sympathetic look and Mycroft couldn’t help but smile ruefully. "Karaoke it is, then. Maybe you can find a bar a little less... frequented?"

"Of course, Sir." Celeste, her name of choice for the current week, quickly made the necessary appointments on her ever present blackberry.

"Please clear my schedule for tomorrow. I need a day off to catch up with the latest CCTV footage." Mycroft waited until she had finished typing before slowly climbing to his feet, thus signalling the end of their meeting.

Celeste got up as well. She placed her blackberry in her handbag and grabbed some of the folders sitting on her boss’ desk.

"Good night, Sir."

"Good night, Celeste." Always the gentleman Mycroft walked his PA to the door, courteously holding it open for her to pass through. When the rear lights of the big black car vanished into the night he closed the door and returned to his study.

Relieved to be alone at last Mycroft stretched slowly, trying in vain to loosen the tight muscles in his shoulders. The day had been exhausting and all he wanted was to go to bed then and there but he still had no time to succumb to this fathomless tiredness settled deep inside his bones. There were numerous reports waiting for him to work through and although his PA was more than capable to take care of most demands related to his job there were things only he was able, and allowed, to handle.

But first he needed something to fight off the increasing weariness that threatened to swamp his mind. Deciding that a cup of tea would certainly help Mycroft entered the kitchen. Stifling a yawn he crossed the room and moved over to the cupboard.

The kitchen was surprisingly small for the manor he was leaving in, but meticulously clean and Mycroft allowed himself a short moment of pleasant anticipation at the sight of the numerous varieties of tea he hoarded in his cabinet.

_Now he just needed to find the right brand accommodating his mood..._

Stretching out his hand he took hold of a box of Earl Grey when the soft tapping of distant footsteps caught his attention. Mycroft froze in surprise before he gently placed the tea back inside the cabinet and made his way into the entrance hall.

_Impossible..._

He was alone in the building. He was sure about it. The security surrounding his house was a tightly woven net of electronic devices and human bodyguards. There was absolutely no way…

The faint sound of metal scraping over wooden floorboards drifting through the ceiling interrupted his train of thought, letting him hesitate for a short moment before he finally started to climb the stairs.

When he reached the first floor he stopped again, breathlessly waiting in the semi darkness for something to happen. The eerie atmosphere of the half-lit hallway soon got to him and Mycroft couldn’t help but feel an unpleasant shudder running down his spine.

Maybe he should have called for reinforcements.

As soon as this thought crossed his mind Mycroft scolded himself for being a coward. His brother would already have been headed straight into the danger, regardless of the consequences, would have taken on whoever was waiting for him, completely ignoring the perils he was throwing himself into by being so impulsive.

Mycroft on the other hand had never been someone to jump without to look first, always approaching a situation by analysing all the available data to the point of exhaustion, thoughtful to remain in the background therefore keeping the individual risks he was willing to take to a minimum.

Still hovering on the landing he strained his ears, listening intently, but all he could hear was the almost deafening silence of emptiness.

Whatever it had been – it seemed gone. But Mycroft knew better than to fall for a ruse as obvious as this, his brain already processing the various possibilities. There was someone in the house with him, someone clever enough to get past the security he used to protect himself with. Someone this competent would make sure to cut him off from any possible help.

Mycroft allowed himself to feel a short twinge of regret at the thought of the men most probably killed by the hand of those unknown attackers and for the first time since this whole ordeal started he became fully aware of the fact that he had to fend for himself.

Quietly he moved over to his bedroom, intent on arming himself with the gun he had placed in the top drawer of his nightstand. As he neared the door, accompanied only by the soft sound of his own footsteps on the cold marble floor, Mycroft hesitated again.

_Something was definitely off..._

Hand clenched around the knob he pushed the door open, cool night air instantly caressing his face when he finally stepped over the threshold.

They had been here, had used his bedroom to enter. Mycroft took in the glass of the broken window, the splinters scattered across the floor. Eyes narrowed in concentration he quickly deduced the turn of events that led them to... show up directly behind him.

He whirled around, the impression of a cold calculating smile and looming shadows all he could see and then there was only one thought on his mind.

_Too slow..._

 

+++

 

_Finally._

Moriarty closed his cell phone with an audible snap, expectant smile plastered all over his face. After so many months of planning and plotting and conveniently investing the right amount of bribery he finally, finally, had reached the ultimate goal.

The British Government was, quite literally, at his disposal.

The thought was exhilarating, intoxicating even. Humming cheerfully he skipped down the staircase until he reached the luxuriously furnished basement.

Moran was already waiting for him, bodily blocking the entrance to the small bedroom at the end of the hallway. As soon as he caught sight of his boss he straightened himself and moved aside.

"He's still sleeping. I gave him a little more than required."

"Good job!" Moriarty distractedly waved Moran away, his attention already focused on claiming his prize. Every nerve in his body was vibrating in anticipation and barely hidden delight.

Bouncing on the balls of his feet he waited impatiently until Moran was out of sight before he pushed open the door and stepped inside, not willing to share his new pet with anyone else. No-one would ever lay eyes on Mycroft Holmes again if he had a say in the matter.

The door closed with a soft thud, leaving Moriarty alone with the one man he had wanted for so long now. Slowly he approached the bed, eyes roaming eagerly over the prone figure of his captive.

All of a sudden Jim’s whole mind was drowning in a burst of giddy happiness. His plan had worked. It really had worked.

After spending all those months to prepare for exactly this one moment it seemed almost unreal to finally have succeeded. But the proof was there – right in front of his eyes. His plan really had worked. Of course getting hold of the British Government had proved to be a tough one but in the end his patience and careful planning had paid off.

The urge to get rid of all this pent-up emotions bubbling deep in his chest became overwhelming and before he could stop himself Moriarty was at Mycroft’s side, twisting soft strands of ginger-coloured hair around his fingers. His mouth descended on Mycroft’s lips with bruising force.

_Mine…_

Mere seconds later he forced himself to stop and took a step back. Breathing heavily Moriarty straightened the jacket of his expensive Westwood suit, reprimanding himself for being too rash. Later there would be enough time for becoming acquainted with Mycroft.

In the meantime he needed to set the next step of his plan in motion.

Moriarty strolled over to the nightstand, glad to have been provident enough to place all the necessary accessories within reach. Grabbing the scissors in one hand he turned around, his gaze once more passing over the slim figure lying motionless on the bed.

Licking his lips he approached the bed again, the taste of Mycroft’s skin still lingering on his lips.

_He really is beautiful..._

And Sherlock never, not once in his whole life, acknowledged it. Moriarty’s good mood evaporated when he remembered all the petty little fights he had witnessed while he had kept the Holmes brothers under surveillance.

Over the previous months he had seen how Sherlock treated this precious little asset dump luck and an unjust fate had gifted him with. For the detective his brother was nothing but a nuisance, something to use and abuse how he saw fit just to be discarded as quickly as possible when it served its purpose.

He on the other hand wouldn’t be this careless. He would take good care of Mycroft, would be thankful for having such a wonderful big brother at his side. Taking Mycroft out of the equation would tip the scale in his favour.

Tapping the scissor against his lips Moriarty revelled in the knowledge that he had managed to take away the only person in the world that Sherlock needed more than anyone else and still would never miss – until it was too late.

Without Mycroft it wouldn’t take long to bring Sherlock down. And with Sherlock gone too, no-one would be able to keep him from taking over. First London, then... who knew. The possibilities were endless.

But that was a plan for another day. For now he had better things to do. Determined he leaned forward, scissor firmly clutched in his hand. It was a shame to ruin a suit as expensive as the one Mycroft was wearing but... it wasn’t as if he needed it anymore.

Smiling Moriarty set the scissor to work.

 

+++

 

The first thing Mycroft noticed when he regained consciousness was the sickly sweet scent of jasmine.

Frowning he tried to bury his face into the cushions in a futile attempt to block the smell from flooding his senses. The scent was strong enough to increase the nauseous feeling pooling deep in his guts and for a moment the elder Holmes feared he would throw up.

Never before had he allowed any kind flowers to be placed in his bedroom and the fact that someone had rather blatantly ignored his orders irked him. It was more than irritating and Mycroft could already feel a headache coming on.

_Floorboards covered in myriads of broken glass and the knowledge that he was no longer alone..._

Immediately Mycroft stilled every movement. All of a sudden he remembered the events that had led to his current predicament and he quickly suppressed the soft sigh already lingering on his lips, careful to conceal the fact that he had woken up.

Whoever responsible for kidnapping him would most probably keep him under surveillance and pretending to be still asleep could be the only advantage he had.

Mycroft strained his ears but he seemed to be alone. At least for now.

_Time to take stock._

Without opening his eyes Mycroft decided to collect as much data as possible. Distracting scent aside he seemed to be unharmed although he felt slightly nauseous, surely an after-effect of the sedative he had been given.

He was lying flat on his back with a cushion under his head and a thin sheet covering his naked...

_Oh._

Quickly filing away the fact that he was naked for later use he continued. Something cold and unyielding circled his wrists and Mycroft carefully moved his arm, nothing more than a subtle twitch of muscle, the soft clinking of metal against metal telling him everything he needed to know.

His arms were chained down at his sides, cuffs binding his wrists to the bedstead. The same applied to his ankles. He could have sat up, his upper arms and shoulders were free after all but with his hands and feet tied down securely there was no way for him to free himself.

He had no clue where he was and how long he had been unconscious but based on the fact that his mouth was completely dry and his throat felt as if he had swallowed a great amount of sand he was sure that he had to be asleep for at least ten or twelve hours to feel this dehydrated.

_Time enough to hide him away at the other side of the world..._

Mycroft took a deep breath, forcibly calming himself down, before the rising panic took over his mind and rendered him completely useless with obstructive and unneeded emotions. They would be searching for him by now. The dead bodyguards and his disappearance would have alerted his PA and, as an unavoidable result, his brother. And Sherlock would search for him, would leave no stone unturned.

They would find him. Of course they would. But until then... There was nothing he could do. Involuntarily he balled his hands. For the first time in more than twenty years he was absolutely helpless and it was a feeling he didn’t like in the slightest.

"Stop fretting, dear. You’re only going to hurt yourself."

The sound of footsteps approaching the bed brought him out of his reverie and Mycroft quickly opened his eyes, not willing to give his capturer an excuse to indulge in a little bit of fun at his expense by waking him up in a rather rude and forceful manner.

Blinking several times in an attempt to adjust to the light shining directly into his eyes he finally was able to focus on the man who had managed, apparently effortlessly, to kidnap one of the most protected politicians in Britain.

Expensive clothes, average height but keeping himself straight. Arrogant posture. Calm. Collected. Dark hair. Nondescript face. Eyes in the colour of...

Abruptly Mycroft’s deductions came to a halt. He knew this man, knew him all too well after analysing every bit of available data when the events preceding the pool disaster finally forced his brother to tell him about the whole incident caused by the man that called himself ‘Jim from IT’.

He had spent hours in front of the CCTV footage, minutely scanning picture after picture for evidence. There was no way for him to mistake this man for someone else.

The criminal mastermind that had kept his brother occupied for weeks on end was staring down at him with an unreadable expression in his eyes and for one long agonizing moment Mycroft was sure everything would end then and there but then the man suddenly took a step back and honest to God… _pouted._

"You know who I am."

It was a statement not a question and Mycroft saw no point in lying although he still felt slightly nonplussed by the turn of events.

"Yes."

Moriarty gnawed thoughtfully on his bottom lip. For a moment he looked like a petulant child, a disgruntled look on his face that bore an eerie resemblance to Sherlock. "I wanted to surprise you."

Not sure how to react to such a double-edged remark Mycroft decided to play safe by making a concession. "You succeeded."

It obviously was the right thing to say because almost immediately Moriarty’s face lit up, eyes dancing with barely hidden delight. Before he had a chance to answer Mycroft quickly continued talking, determined to stay in charge of their conversation. "Why did you do it, though? What can you possibly achieve by abducting me?"

"Isn’t it obvious?" The younger man stepped forward, the expression in his eyes abruptly changing into something dark and unsettling.

Mycroft watched him carefully, the uneasy feeling in his guts intensifying. He had the distinct feeling that he had missed one crucial detail in his deductions. What on earth could Moriarty want from him? The consulting criminal seemed to need him, at least for now, or he would rather have been killed than kidnapped otherwise.

So why take the risk to kidnap one of the most important members of the British Government when it was easy to foresee the consequences? As soon as his superiors found him gone Mycroft would be deemed a security risk and all the projects he had been working on would immediately go into lockdown, his means of access rendered useless.

But maybe he needed to approach this problem from a different angle. When his work was irrelevant for Moriarty then he most likely thought Mycroft’s captivity would give him an advantage over Sherlock. Anyhow… he definitely needed more data. "I’m sorry but you have to help me. I really don’t know what you are talking about."

Moriarty studied him for a long moment, obviously stunned by the fact that Mycroft really had absolutely no clue regarding his true motives. Then suddenly his lips twitched and seconds later the criminal threw back his head and laughed.

"Oh, Iceman! I should have known that you have no need for something like this in your life. But I’m sure you’ll work it out!"

The over-exited smile on Moriarty’s face started to grate on Mycroft’s nerves. Why could the man not simply say what he wanted and be over and done with it? The elder Holmes seldom found himself in the position of not knowing what was going on and it bothered him more than he ever would admit.

_What had he missed?_

Not willing to be kept guessing any longer Mycroft unconsciously closed his eyes and started to recapitulate his previous chain of thoughts. Soon he lost himself in his deductions – endless strings of facts, clues, evidence, flashed through his mind, connecting, proving, dismissing and re-evaluating details, possibilities and...

" _Awww..._ Look at you! Your desperate attempt to figure out what’s going on is soo cute."

Mycroft’s eyes flew open, his face involuntarily heating up in deeply felt embarrassment at being sussed out this easily. How could he have been so caught up in solving this problem to forget that his kidnapper, although often acting like an obnoxious child, was one of the most perceptive men he had ever met? Of course Moriarty would catch on the fact that he still frantically tried to figure out what was going on and now he had lowered his guard in a rather mortifying display of vulnerability.

_How could he have been so careless?_

"My, my… do you look hot. Here, let me help you." Not sure if the pun was intended Mycroft restrained himself from reacting. Moriarty’s next actions almost ruined his efforts, though, causing him to startle when suddenly a glass of water appeared right in front of his face while a strong hand sneaked its way under his neck, carefully helping him to sit up before he was allowed to take a small sip of water.

"All right?" Another sip and Moriarty took the glass away. Mycroft’s gaze lingered on the glass until it found its place on the nightstand and although he had given Moriarty enough leverage by now he couldn’t help but stare longingly at the desperately needed water.

All the hours he had spent lying flat on his back in combination with the sedative and the slightly dehydrated state he was in definitely had taken a toll on him. His head was swimming and not for the first time Mycroft had to struggle to avoid exposing himself in front of one of the most dangerous men he ever met.

"You see, I can be very generous, My. I can call you My, can’t I? Mike sounds so… pedestrian. And calling you Mycroft just won’t do. It’s so terribly impersonal." The criminal mastermind smiled hopefully and without warning he sat down on the edge of the bed, deliberately bouncing up and down to increase the movement of the mattress.

Mycroft pressed his lips together, annoyed by the childish behaviour of his kidnapper. "Mr. Moriarty..."

"Please call me Jim."

"Mr…"

"Ah, ah, ah." The man reprimanded him, playfully tapping one of his fingers against the tip of Mycroft’s nose. Thankfully he had stopped bouncing.

"Jim." Mycroft frowned at the childish gesture but managed to force a smile. He knew it definitely looked just as faked as it felt but he couldn’t help himself. It was time to stop acting like a pathetic fool and bring all the carefully crafted masks he used to hide behind firmly back into place.

"Stop playing games, Jim. I’m a very busy man and I would appreciate for you get to the point."

"If that is what you want." The happy, guileless smile on his face grew harder, sharper and suddenly Mycroft wasn’t so sure that it had been a good idea to force the man to put his cards on the table. But it was too late to back down now.

Moriarty gently took hold of Mycroft’s wrist, seductively caressing the soft skin of his arm with his fingertips until he reached a naked shoulder. His hand lingered there, fingers idly playing with the strands of Mycroft’s hair.

"I can see that you still have no idea what I’m talking about. Let me give you a clue." Moriarty slowly leaned in, carefully inching forward until his mouth rested next to Mycroft’s ear, hot breath ghosting over heated skin, sending involuntary shivers down his spine.

Feeling rather uncomfortable Mycroft tried to squirm away but without warning a clever tongue flicked over the shell of his ear, leaving a wet trail of spit in its wake, and this time Mycroft couldn’t help but to violently flinch back, disgust written all over his face.

For long moments they just stared at each other, the tension between both men almost palpable and with a sudden clarity everything clicked into place.

_No._

For the second time this day Mycroft came dangerously close to throwing up. This was something he had never considered to happen. He had expected to be killed, maybe even tortured, but this… this was something different altogether and it… frightened him.

He knew that he should talk himself out of this, should threaten, blackmail, convince Moriarty to leave him alone but his mind was completely blank.

"Do you know for how long I wanted you?" Inch by tantalizing inch Moriarty pulled down the sheet, revealing Mycroft’s pale, perfect body to his hungry gaze. Finally it slid to the floor, allowing him a clear view of what he wanted to possess soon. "I’ve waited an eternity for this special moment. It took me ages until fate finally offered me an opportunity to catch you."

"Should I apologize for any inconvenience I caused you or congratulate you on your perseverance?" The words left his mouth before he could even think about it and retaliation followed just as quick as thoroughly.

Gasping in pain Mycroft’s back hit the mattress, head spinning from the painful blow Moriarty had dealt him. Carefully he lifted one hand, the skin on his cheek already feeling sore and rather swollen.

When he looked up he instantly wished he hadn’t. Moriarty was staring at him with his mouth slightly open, breath coming in short, panting gasps. His eyes were dark with lust.

"You're beautiful!" One hand buried in his hair Mycroft felt his head being pulled back, a wet hot tongue greedily forcing its way inside his mouth. The kiss was violent and designed to assert domination and after a short struggle Mycroft gave in. There was nothing he could do to stop this man. Best to swim with the current – and pray that it was over soon.

A warm hand slid over his chest, nimble fingers teasing his nipples into hardness before wandering deeper, exploring his body with possessive touches.

Mycroft turned his head away, not wanting to give Moriarty the satisfaction to see how much this affected him but Moriarty would have none of it. Clenching Mycroft’s chin in a firm grip he forced his head back, the tip of his tongue trailing a demanding path down the exposed the neck of his captive.

"Perfect…"

Teeth scraping over shivering flesh Moriarty relentlessly followed the seemingly endless expanse of pale, unblemished skin.

"Breathtaking..."

Nipping playfully at the quivering muscles of Mycroft’s abdomen, careful not to leave any marks Moriarty moved lower, mouth hovering over the still flaccid shaft resting on a nest of auburn coloured curls.

Mycroft swallowed hard, desperately trying to keep down the bile gathering in his throat. Closing his eyes he tried to block out the knowledge what Moriarty was about to do, detaching himself from his body as much as possible.

"Did anyone ever tell you how incredibly beautiful you are?"

A sharp intake of breath was all he allowed himself when one calloused finger started circling his hole but it was enough to make Moriarty hum in pleasure. A second later something moist and slippery closed around his member and Mycroft retreated even further into his mind, tightly clenched fists the only indication of the turmoil raging deep inside him.

Just as abruptly as it began he was free again and Moriarty’s mouth once more pressed against his lips. For a moment he tasted himself on the other man’s tongue, the heavy scented flavour all it took to bring him crashing down back into reality, and Mycroft needed all his willpower not to bite down on the offending flesh invading his mouth.

Finally they broke apart, both of them breathing heavily although for different reasons.

"I bet Sherlock never appreciated you the way you deserve." Moriarty kissed him again, this time far too gentle for Mycroft’s liking, initiating an intimacy worse than his previous violence ever could be. "If you were my brother I would have locked you away to have you all for myself."

Licking his lips in anticipation Moriarty waited for Mycroft to react. When all he received was a distanced look his desire nearly boiled over. Mycroft was so different from all those stupid jerks he had wasted his time with, was so exceptionally _perfect_ that the desire to have – _take, keep, destroy, cherish_ – him was nearly overwhelming.

"I need to have you." Moriarty slid one leg over Mycroft’s body, straddling his hips with one swift movement. Suddenly frantic with need and desire he opened his trousers, pushing the soft material aside. Immediately his cock sprang free, already hard and leaking pre-come.

One look at Mycroft, lying motionless underneath him like a lamb waiting for its slaughter, and Moriarty couldn’t stand the delicious pain any longer.

"I need... I can’t..." Completely incoherent by now Moriarty closed one hand around his shaft, two, three quick strokes enough to send him over the edge. Come splattered over Mycroft’s stomach and chest, thick strings of milky white substance sliding down his ribs, slowly dripping onto the mattress.

Panting Moriarty raked his hand through the seed pooling in Mycroft’s navel, lifting it to his mouth to relish the salty taste of his ownership. Grinning he looked down at his captive and leaned forward, eyes sparkling with anticipation and bridled lust.

He reached out, viscous trails of come trickling from his fingers. Sharp grey eyes widened in shock, something akin to horror flickering over Mycroft’s face when the first drop of semen fell down on his mouth.

The stale scent of sweat and come tickled his nose and Mycroft pressed his lips together tightly, determined to prevent the sticky substance from invading his mouth.

"You really are like ice, aren’t you? So cold, so unyielding. You’re like those beautiful marble statues treasured in museums all over the world." Dragging his index finger through the come on Mycroft’s lips Moriarty carefully used the sticky substance to gently caress the bruise marring the face of his captive.

"I shouldn’t have done that. It’s a sacrilege to carelessly damage an article of value."

A bewildered look was all he received and Moriarty smiled in response. Slowly he sat up again, this time shifting back until he was sitting right on Mycroft’s still completely unresponsive cock. "No reaction? I’m hurt. And I tried so hard to please you."

Hand firmly closed around his own member he started to coax himself into hardness again. Two quick strokes were enough to arouse him and Mycroft steeled himself against a renewed contact with Moriarty’s bodily fluids but this time the criminal seemed to have a different idea.

With a mischievous smile Moriarty used his free hand to grab Mycroft’s wrist in a firm grip, dragging his hand upwards until he could place it over his straining erection. "See what you’re doing to me? Can you feel how much I want you?" The increasing pressure on his wrist forced Mycroft to close his fingers around the hard hot shaft. It was one of the most revolting things he ever had done and the politician swallowed hard, desperately struggling to keep his composure.

_This was not happening._

"You are nothing but a cold and heartless piece of art." Moriarty fucked into Mycroft’s hand, setting a slow deliberate rhythm. "Timeless perfection..." Hips jerking forward he threw back his head, breath by now coming in short gasps.

"Do you know what they do with precious objects of art?"

Although panic welled up inside him Mycroft showed no visible reaction. He just steadily answered Moriarty’s gaze and the man groaned in a mixture of lust and hunger, leisurely pulling their combined hands up the length of his aching cock, obviously intent on staving off his orgasm as long as possible.

"They hide them away, valued treasures kept under lock and key, their only purpose to pleasure their owner."

Mycroft felt ill. He had known from the start that Moriarty was most probably insane but this... this was more. For some unknown reason the consulting criminal had set his mind on turning him into his possession. For him his captive was nothing more than a mere object to use for his own twisted pleasure.

Everything was so terribly clear now. Moriarty never had wanted to kill him. He wanted him, craved him even, but why... Mycroft had absolutely no idea. They never met before so why this unhealthy obsession? Moriarty shouldn’t even now he existed.

Distracted by his train of thoughts Mycroft almost missed when the pressure of Moriarty’s knees digging into his sides suddenly intensified, indicating that the man kneeling above him finally reached completion.

The orgasm seemed to hit him full force and Mycroft quickly turned his head away but he still wasn’t fast enough. Once again Moriarty marked him with his seed and while the first splashes of the warm sticky substance rained down on his skin Mycroft silently prayed for someone – anyone – to come and help him. Soon his hair and eyelashes were clotted with countless drops of semen and for the first time since this whole ordeal started Mycroft allowed the nagging doubts whispering in the back of his mind to be heard.

_What if they never come?_

"Mine."

_Would he be in Moriarty’s clutches forever? Nothing more than a meek object this lunatic used to satisfy his needs as he saw fit?_

"Mine."

_No. He knew his brother. Sherlock would come. It was just a matter of time._

Without warning Moriarty slumped forward, covering Mycroft’s body with his own, not caring that he ruined his suit in his own come. Breathing heavily he just lay there for long moments, seemingly too exhausted to move and once again Mycroft indulged in the unrealisable fantasy of choking the vile creature lying on top of him.

_But even if he succeeded... there was no way for him to get out. He didn’t even know if he still was in England..._

Warm lips touched his neck, taking him by surprise and this time Mycroft couldn’t suppress a violent shudder. A soft chuckle reverberated in his ear and then Moriarty moved forward, his head almost colliding with Mycroft’s face.

Disgusted to the core Mycroft closed his eyes when Moriarty started to hungrily lick the thick streaks of come from his face before he rolled to the side and off the bed.

"Please excuse me now. I have very important matters to attend to."

Moriarty skipped over to the wardrobe and after quickly shedding his soiled clothes he started to change. Soon he was dressed in another of his expensive Westwood suits and with swift, sure movements he straightened his tie and grabbed a comb. Only a few seconds later his clothes and hair were in perfect order.

Already on the phone again, giving orders in rapid speed Moriarty stopped at the door and turned around, his eyes full of dark and twisted promises that made Mycroft’s blood run cold.

"I’m planning a surprise for you. It’s a little game I started a while back but soon it will come to fruition. But... _ssh..._ " Moriarty pressed his finger against his lips and then he was gone and Mycroft was left to stare at the door, nothing but cold certainty in his heart that something terrible was about to happen.

 

+++

 

Mycroft hadn’t known that anything could hurt so much.

Frozen to the spot since the moment Moriarty had presented his surprise to him Mycroft just sat there in horrified silence, body and mind numb from shock.

_He should have known..._

Why hadn’t he realised what the man was playing at? How could he have been so stupid? He had failed. He had failed and now the ones dear to him were paying the price.

_He should have tried to stop him..._

Three endless weeks full of humiliation and pain and despair. Days strung together in an endless circle of never-ending terror, more than once leaving him on the verge of breaking but the absolute certainty that his brother would come and save him had kept him sane. Until now.

Strong arms circled his waist, a calloused hand crept under his shirt, stroking the soft skin of his stomach with gentle and soothing movements but Mycroft just couldn’t bring himself to care any longer. There was nothing Moriarty could do to him. Not any more.

_He shouldn’t have given up this easily..._

"No-one will ever look for you again." Lips trailed over his cheek, sharp teeth nibbling at his jaw and with sudden clarity Mycroft knew what he had to do.

_He should have fought more..._

"Everything’s exactly how it should have been from the beginning. You and me. Together. Forever."

_...Sherlock had been right. He really was a coward._

Turning around slowly he forced himself to calmly answer Moriarty’s gaze. Reaching out, he entwined their fingers in a strong grip, bringing the man’s hand to his lips.

"Forever." He whispered almost inaudibly and with a sharp movement he jerked the surprised man forward, completely throwing him off balance. Within seconds he had the man pinned beneath him, absolutely incapable of moving and without hesitation he closed his hands around Moriarty’s throat.

All his life Sherlock had made fun of him, had called him lazy and slow but his brother never realised that Mycroft was anything but the phlegmatic government official he wanted the world to believe. No-one ever had tried to see behind the carefully crafted façade he had cultivated over the years.

Brushing his lips over Moriarty’s slightly opened mouth in a parody of all the kisses the man had forced upon him Mycroft waited for the man to accept the inevitable, to realise that there was no-one going to save him.

When the surprised disbelief in Moriarty’s eyes finally changed into terrified realisation Mycroft turned his head away. Desperately blinking back the tears suddenly burning in his eyes his mind wandered to the last time he had seen his brother.

There was nothing he could do to change the past but he still could make amends for his failure.

Two hours, thirty-five minutes and twenty-eight seconds before Moriarty made Mycroft’s world crumble to ashes.

Five minutes and three seconds until Mycroft took Moriarty’s life.

Ten minutes and seventeen seconds later Mycroft still held a crumbled newspaper in his hand when Moran pulled the trigger, spraying his blood over the headline that had torn his life to pieces.

 

END


End file.
